Q Ships and Their Story 20

Q Ships and Their Story 20

The converted ‘flower’ class sloops, originally built as minesweepers,

but by the able work of the naval dockyard staff now made to resemble

little merchantmen, were having a busy time. _Tulip_ (Q 12), for

instance, which had begun her Q-ship service at the end of August,

1916, was sunk eight months later by a submarine in the Atlantic and

her captain taken prisoner, though eighty survivors were picked up by

the British destroyer _Mary Rose_ and landed in Queenstown.[4] The

sloop _Viola_ began this special work towards the end of September,

1916, and a month later was shelled by a submarine, who suddenly gave

up the attack and made off to the northward, having evidently realized

the sloop’s disguise, which none but an expert seafarer could have

penetrated. Now, in each submarine there was usually carried as warrant

navigating officer a man who had served in German liners and freighters

and would be familiar with the shipping normally to be found in the

area to which each U-boat was assigned. In this particular incident

his practised eye had evidently been struck by the position of the

above-water discharge being vertically under the imitation cargo hatch

and derrick forward of the mainmast. These were important details which

had to be watched if the disguise was to be successful.

 

 

[Illustration: Q-SHIP “TULIP”

 

This vessel was originally built as a sloop, but was given a false

stern and generally altered to resemble a merchantman.]

 

[Illustration: Q-SHIP “TAMARISK”

 

Like the “Tulip,” this vessel was originally built as a warship. She

was cleverly altered so that both in hull and upperworks she resembled

a merchant steamer.

 

To face p. 138]

 

Another converted sloop was _Tamarisk_, who began that rôle at the end

of July, 1916, and was commanded by Lieutenant John W. Williams, R.N.R.

Towards the end of November she was shelled by a submarine at long

range, so that the Q-ship had to declare herself and reply, whereupon

the enemy beat a retreat and dived. Hitherto the excellent Q-ship

gunnery had depended on the fact that first-class men had been selected

who would be able at short range to score hits with the first or second

rounds. But this incident of the _Tamarisk_, involving at least 6,000

yards range, showed that a small range-finder would be very useful, and

this was accordingly supplied. Other sloops thus converted to resemble

merchantmen were the _Begonia_, _Aubrietia_, _Salvia_, _Heather_, and

so on.

 

The Q-ships operated not merely in the North Atlantic, English Channel,

North Sea, and Mediterranean, but in such areas as off Lapland and the

other side of the North and South Atlantic. For instance, the S.S.

_Intaba_ (Q 2), under Commander Frank Powell, on December 8, 1916, was

in action with a submarine not far from the Kola Inlet, and had been

sent to these northern latitudes inasmuch as German submarines for

some time had been sinking our merchant ships off that coast. Another

Q-ship operated with a British E-class submarine near Madeira and the

Canaries; and another Q-ship was in the South Atlantic looking for a

German raider, At other times there were the ocean-going submarines

_Deutschland_ and _Bremen_ to be looked out for. There was thus plenty

of work to be carried out by these decoy vessels in almost every sea.

 

But it was especially those Q-ships based on Queenstown who had to

bear the brunt of the submarine warfare. Strategically, Queenstown

was an outpost of the British Isles, and there was scarcely a day in

the week when one Q-ship was not leaving or entering Queenstown, or in

the Haulbowline Dockyard being got ready for her next ‘hush’ cruise.

Bearing in mind that this base was in a country whose inhabitants

were largely anti-British, that there had been a great rising in

Dublin at Eastertide, 1916, and that the German disguised S.S. _Aud_

had made an ineffectual attempt to land a cargo of arms, and that

Sir Roger Casement had arrived, it may well be realized how great

was the responsible task of enshrouding these decoys in secrecy.

Perhaps for weeks a recently requisitioned ship would be alongside

the dockyard quay having her necessary disguises made, and yet the

enemy knew nothing about it until he found himself surprised, and

forced to keep at long range or hide himself in the depths of the sea.

Sound organization, constant personal attention on the part of the

Commander-in-Chief, and loyal, enthusiastic co-operation on the part

of the officers and men, achieved the successes which came to this

difficult work of Q-ships. It was all such a distinctly novel kind

of sea service, which was of too personal and particular a kind to

allow it to be run by mere routine. During the whole of its history

it was experimental, and each cruise, each engagement, almost each

captain added to the general body of knowledge which was being rapidly

accumulated. It seemed for the professional naval officer as if the

whole of his previous life and training had been capsized. Instead of

his smart, fast twin-screw destroyer, he found himself in command of an

awkward, single-screw, disreputable-looking tramp, too slow almost to

get out of her own way. On the other hand, officers of the Mercantile

Marine, fresh from handling freighters or liners, in whom throughout

all their lives had been instilled the maxim ‘Safety first,’ now found

they had to court risks, look for trouble, and pretend they were not

men-of-war. Q-ship work was, in fact, typical of the great upheaval

which had affected the whole world.

 

In some cases the transition was gradual. Some officers, having come

from other ships to command sloops, found their aspirations satisfied

not even in these ships, whose work went on unceasingly—escorting all

but the fastest Atlantic liners, patrolling, minesweeping, picking up

survivors or salvaging stricken ships, or whatever duty came along.

Transferring as volunteers from sloops to sloops rebuilt as Q-ships,

they had to forget a great deal and acquire much more. One of such

officers was Lieut.-Commander W. W. Hallwright, R.N., who, after doing

very fine work as captain of one of H.M. sloops based on Queenstown,

took over command of the disguised sloop _Heather_ (Q 16). One April

day in 1917, while cruising in the Atlantic about breakfast time,

_Heather_ was suddenly attacked by a submarine, whose sixth shot killed

this keen officer, a piece of shell passing through his head whilst he

was watching the movements of the German through a peep-hole on the

starboard side of the bridge. Lieutenant W. McLeod, R.N.R., then took

command, opened fire, but the submarine dived and made off as usual.

 

Other Q-ship captains perished, and that is all we know. On a certain

date the ship left harbour; perhaps a couple of days later she had

reported a certain incident in a certain position. After that, silence!

Neither the ship nor any officers or crew ever returned to port, and

one could but assume that the enemy had sent them to the bottom. In

spite of all this, the number of volunteers exceeded the demand. From

retired admirals downwards they competed with each other to get to sea

in Q-ships. Bored young officers from the Grand Fleet yearning for

something exciting; ex-mercantile officers, yachtsmen, and trawler men,

they used every possible means to become acceptable, and great was

their disappointment if they were not chosen.

 

 

[Footnote 3: ‘Germany’s High Sea Fleet in the World War,’ p. 242.]

 

[Footnote 4: _Tulip_ was sunk by U 62, whose captain reported that she

was a very well-disguised trap, having the appearance of a medium-sized

cargo steamer. Suspicion was aroused by the way the merchant flag was

hoisted, and the fact that she appeared to have no defensive gun.]

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XI

 

THE GOOD SHIP ‘PRIZE’

 

 

In the summer of 1914 I happened to be on a yachting cruise in the

English Channel. In July we had seen the Grand Fleet, led by _Iron

Duke_, clear out from Weymouth Bay for Spithead. In single line ahead

the battle squadrons weighed and proceeded, then came the light

cruisers, and before the last of these had washed the last ounce

of dirt off her cable and steamed into position, the _Iron Duke_

and _Marlborough_ were hull down over the horizon: it was the most

wonderful sight I had ever witnessed at sea. A week or two later I had

arrived in Falmouth, the war had begun, and yachting came to a sudden

stop. One morning we found a new neighbour had arrived, a typical,

foreign-built, three-masted schooner, who had just been brought in and

anchored. She was destined to be an historic ship in more ways than

one. Actually, she was the first prize to be captured from Germany, and

it was a unique sight then to see the White Ensign flying over German

colours. Within four or five hours of declaration of war this craft had

been captured at the western entrance of the English Channel, and she

never became German again.

 

But she was to be historic in quite another way. Of all the splendid

little Q-ships during the war, not excepting even the _Mitchell_

mentioned in another chapter, no sailing craft attained such

distinction, and her captain will be remembered as long as British

naval history has any fascination. This German schooner was named the

_Else_, and had been built of steel and iron in 1901 at Westerbrock,

by the firm of Smit and Zoon, but registered at Leer, Germany. She was

112 feet 6 inches long, her net tonnage being 199. I can still see her

disconsolate German skipper standing aft, and it must have grieved

him that his ship was about to be taken from him for ever. For she

was afterwards put up for auction and sold to the Marine Navigation

Company, who, because of her experience already mentioned, changed her

name from _Else_ to _First Prize_. In November, 1916, she was lying in

Swansea, and as the Admiralty was looking out for a suitable vessel to

carry out decoy work after the manner of _Mitchell_ and _Helgoland_,

she was surveyed, found suitable, and requisitioned. A few weeks later

the Managing Director of the Company patriotically decided to waive all

payment for hire, and lent her to the Admiralty without remuneration.

 

By February, 1917, this auxiliary topsail schooner was ready for sea

as a disguised man-of-war, with a couple of 12-pounders cleverly

concealed on her deck. She had changed her name from _First Prize_

to _Prize_, alias Q 21, and in command of her went Lieutenant W. E.

Sanders, R.N.R., whom we saw behaving with distinction when serving in

the Q-sailing-ship _Helgoland_. No better man could have been found

than this plucky New Zealander, and he had already shown that he had

a genius for this extra special type of Q-ship work. _Prize_ had

been sent to work in the western waters, and on April 26, 1917, she

left Milford Haven for a cruise off the west coast of Ireland, this

being the month when, of all months in the war, German submarines